Guardian
by arabellaesque
Summary: Sometimes a former Bhaalspawn just can't forget their old comrades, especially when there was more than just friendship at stake


**Author's Note:** This is unashamedly sappy and vague, floating about in my head since before the ToB part of the Xan mod was released and the unbonded path has been taken. I won't be held responsible for any bouts of vomiting induced by the sugariness :)

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The sudden noise of a twig snapping underfoot caused two of the men to jump. Of the other two, one was too injured, the other too weary to react to the noise. Swords were drawn by the standing men; fairly long blades, shining faintly in the rapidly darkening eve. They exchanged nervous glances -- another assault like the one they'd fled from would be the end, they were sure. But trapped as they were, needing rest and components for their spells, and being all but lost in the stretches of the woods surrounding them -- it was only a matter of time before _something_ found them. 

The tallest was an elf named Ruasas. His dark hair was shorter than that of his comrades, almost resembling a human style and displaying his pointed ears prominently. He was of slender build; his grasp on his weapon was tight, but his handling was clumsy and betrayed his lack of confidence in combat. Elven chainmail hung limply from his frame, seemingly made for someone wider and bulkier, and he cautiously pulled his long brown cloak tighter around him.

Beside him was his brother, Yaon. Younger by almost a century, he was the most inexperienced of the four assembled men. His face was paler than that of his sibling, his eyes a little wider. His hands shook as he held his sword; he had received even less training with the weapon than Ruasas. He wouldn't give in without a fight, though -- a fierce determination shone from his eyes as he looked from side to side, his reddish hair carefully braided back away from his face with only the slightest of wisps having fallen free.

Arnin grunted in pain as he lay on the ground behind them. His robes were torn and frayed, bloodied and dirty from the mud they'd ran through as they desperately tried to make their escape. Hair as black as the night was bound back in a long ponytail, the front coming down in a small 'v' shape above his forehead -- combined with his slightly pointed chin, his face resembled a heart. Two small, beady brown eyes staring unblinkingly up to the sky as beads of sweat formed on his brow. His breathing was heavy and laboured; he wheezed in a combination of pain and exhaustion, but neither could be tended to at that point. They had to move on if they were to survive.

Ruasas and Yaon turned to the fourth figure. He was sitting by his wounded comrade, his head covered by the hood of his purple robes, his figure hunched and small. Another twig snapped, then came the soft noise of rustling leaves, swirling air -- their foes were chasing, and they were getting close.

"We have to move on," Ruasas urged, looking around warily. His grip on his blade intensified.

"We cannot stay here," agreed Yaon. "They will reach us soon."

The sitting figure sighed morosely. "What is the point?"

"My lord," Ruasas protested, his voice rising with his fear. "We were ambushed and lost our spell components -- our true swordsman lies before us, too injured to carry on with the battle, and we are no substitute for his skill. If we do not move, we will fall!"

A sudden coldness fell on their small glade, causing them to shiver as the effects worked their way around them. Yaon and Ruasas turned fretfully, their eyes scouring the surrounding trees as they tried to catch some sight of their foes. Then, with no warning, they came -- shadows spilling from the shelter of the forest, silently and slowly moving towards the group. They were surrounded -- shades approaching from all sides having been unknowingly released from their prison deep within the woods.

Ruasas leapt over Arnin's prone body as the fourth figure stood up slowly, drawing his own blade free from his belt. It glowed eerily in the darkness, small sparks seeming to fly from it. The move seemed to cause a slight morale boost, as the brothers began fighting off the nearest of the creatures, their leader moving to join the fray. Though Xan had never received any formal training with his sword in all the time he'd held it as a moonblade wielder, his previous adventures around the Sword Coast and Amn had taught him to overcome the fear he'd once had of wielding it, and what he lacked in formal swordsmanship, he now had in honed survival skill.

They seemed to fight for hours -- the shadows resisted swarming in and overwhelming them for a long time, testing the fighting abilities of the group as they desperately tried to protect Arnin and themselves from further injury. Their ghostly claws would occasionally manage to scrape down one of the elf's bodies, chilling them to the bone and sapping their strength. Xan's moonblade flashed furiously with every hit he scored, but they could only last so long. The end was coming, and he knew it.

Ruasas fell first, too fatigued to rise and continue the fight. His brother was next, stumbling to the ground beside him as his leg bled furiously. Xan was left alone, watching as the creatures closed in, approaching their prey, preparing for the kill.

He closed his eyes; _so this is what it is like, to feel death approach_. For a blissful moment he was aware of nothing but the gentle breeze blowing through his face, caressing his hair with the softest of touches. Touches he hadn't felt for a long time. Memories of his previous travels swirled around his mind; his companions... their leader. Of elven heritage, like him, he'd found himself enchanted by her presence, unable to fight the passion she stirred within him. A passion they'd shared and lost after he left her side to return home. He'd helped her all he could, ensured she regained her soul. The rest of her destiny was her own to deal with.

And she had.

His eyes opened, registering the creature before him, only a hand span away from his face. There were glowing red eyes in its apparitional form, and they emanated evilness and death. His death. His arm fell to his side, limp, but his grip to his moonblade remained. He was ready.

A howl from the far side of the creatures caught his attention. His eyes followed the sound, seeing a glowing light -- it was getting closer and closer, and as it did, the shadows moved instinctively away -- all thoughts of their prey vanishing. Within moments they began writing in terror, shrieking as they faded from existence. The aura grew and grew, and Xan sank to the ground, the weariness returning to him as he was, once again, cheated from death. At long last the screaming ended, the glow faded, and a single pair of footsteps could be heard. A face bent over him, creased with worry, and the shock he found himself experiencing was just too much. Everything went dark.

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When Xan awoke the next day, Ruasas and Yaon were placing some small pieces of wood on a burning campfire while Arnin sorted through some kind of pouch. The brothers smiled to him; some scars from their injuries, and Arnin's torn robes the only reminders of the danger they'd faced. Xan stood up slowly and frowned.

"Who started the fire?"

"Some girl did," said Yaon, his features extending into a wide smile. "She was here when we woke up -- said she'd made the fire to keep us warm and stood guard while we rested. She gave us some stuff and checked we were all right, then left."

"She asked us to give that pouch," Ruasas jerked his head to Arnin, "to you, but he woke up first and claimed it."

"What is in it?" Xan asked quietly.

"Not a lot," grumbled Arnin, "but a fair selection for someone untrained, I give her that." He passed the bag to Xan, and the enchanter peered in, a small knot forming in his throat. There were various spell components -- barely enough to go around four of them, but a suitable amount to deal with until they returned to civilisation.

"When did she leave?" Xan asked hoarsely.

Yaon shrugged. "About an hour ago, maybe more. She said she'd seen us enter here, and feared for our safety."

"Aye," Ruasas agreed, "and she even apologised for not being able to help us with the ambush."

Xan sat back down shakily, ignoring the anxious glances directed at him by the others. _It was her._ He'd known she had retreated to a life of solitude, but he had no idea where. He'd travelled to Candlekeep to visit her sister, pleaded with her for details of her sibling's location, but he'd been turned away -- told that she was better off without someone who would abandon her as easily as he had.

And so this is where she was, now. But she was no mage... why did she possess a bag of components when she had no use for them? None of the reagents were what they'd had before, so... had she bought them? From where? Why? He groaned internally, his head falling into his hands as he recalled the journeys he'd undertaken over the last few years. The rangers had detected someone following them on occasion, but never discovered who... the guards at night would hear noises from nearby and cautiously explore, only to find something that they'd been lacking -- most often food or healing supplies. But never before had she directly shown herself to him or any of his men.

She still remembered him.

He waved for the others to get ready to go -- it was a long march back to the nearest settlement and he wanted to reach there before nightfall. Then he needed time to think, time to work out what to do. Knowing she was there, somewhere, watching him was more frustrating than having no idea where she'd gone after she declined godhood and gave up her immortal essence. _One chance,_ he silently called out to his Gods; _just give me one chance to see her again, to be able to speak to her. To tell her how I've never stopped regretting the mistake I made._

With a sigh he stood up, hoisting his pack onto his shoulders. He declined some of the food Yaon offered him before they moved on -- food she'd no doubt gathered for them, and noted the fresh rack of healing potions sitting in Ruasas' bag. With a former Bhaalspawn around, who needed a guardian angel?


End file.
